Meanwhile, back at the ranch

This may be a rambling post. I may not even publish it but I feel like there are some things that I want to talk about.
We are going through a second adoption. That means that I am "paper pregnant". It means that I have inside of me all of the hopes and dreams and anxieties that any expectant mother has. It's just that no one else can see it. I have no physical changes to go along with it. I have no daily reminders or monthly milestones to help me remeber that, indeed, a baby is coming. It means that those "resereved for expectant mother" parking spaces really chap my ass. It means that I hope and pray every single minute of my existance that I will be able to be enough for these children.
In some ways I am scared to death. I have no idea who this person is. I have no idea if it will be a boy (probably I am feeling) or a girl (no disappointment at all if it is). I have no idea how old he or she will be- I use the term baby to mean a child that is my youngest. That term,baby also helps me keep in mind how significant the child's needs will be. I have no idea of what physical condition my child will be in. I am so afraid that I will not be able to stand seeing a child of mine in pain with surgeries. I am so afraid that my family will be disrupted and never get back to "normal". I get so afraid that I will love unequally. I am afraid that I will loose my husband in all of the activity and noise and general adoption mayhem. Most of all though? The thing that scares me the most? Is that I WON'T get a baby out of this.
In some ways I have no doubts at all. Sometimes there is no fear. I just feel like we can do this. That we will do this and that we will have two beautiful and wonderful children from China that make us complete as a family.
Some days my longing for this baby is unbearable. I can not eat a bite or sit for a minute with out wondering and hoping and praying. The longing has a different flavor than that I had for Ev. It's like when I was waiting for her, that longing was all about ME and what I wanted and needed. This time it's less frantic for myself and much more frantic for my child. I want that baby home so we can take care of him/her, so we can start to make things better and right for that person.
On most days I live with a strange combination of all of those emotions: fear, hope, faith and longing.
Then there are the extra frustrations. The paperwork. The Social Worker that takes a longer time than you want getting your home study together. The fears of H1N1 taking over your trip and making it hell. The silly CDC and their TB crap. The notarization, the certifications and oh GOD! the money.
I never want to turn away though. Not one second form the time that Les and I began to realize that this could be. That we could go back to China and come home with the most wonderful gift of all.
At times I worry that these fears I have mean that I am not fit or worthy- those are the darkest times. Most of the time though I try to remind myself that these fears are normal and ok and even beneficial to have, they get me thinking and help me ready myself.
I would also like to talk a bit about my husband. How he has gone through the heartbeak of infertility WITH me. He has never been on the outside looking in. He has walked with me every single step of the way. He has never once doubted my feeling and intuitions about adoption. He tells me every day that he is so very happy that things worked out like they did. There is no hesitation in his heart, he loves our children from the depths of his soul, I know this. I see his love in every thing that he does. He has never made me feel like I was bad or broken in any way. He just sort of hitched up his pants and waded through the grief and the decisions and the paperwork with me. I simply could not ask for more.
I was looking at a blog last night and there was this picture of this tiny, beautiful 14 mos old girl, laying in a hospital bed recovering from heart surgery. I began to cry. I just wondered how on earth I could be strong enough to help a child through that. I then remembered that I could because it would mean life versus death. Love versus nothing. I know that God will send us the child we are supposed to have, the child that we can handle, the child that is ours. I know this because I have Evelyn and she is a miracle.
Yes she is a miracle but, it wasn't easy. She was sick, undernourished, weak and frightened when I took her into my arms. We then lived our final 2 mos in Alaska. Les was in and out with the CG, underway for days at a time. I was alone with this grieving, adjusting mess of a little girl that I loved so very profoundly. Then we moved. Just as she was starting to settle in and find a rhythm, just as she was getting secure, we had to put her into a car, sleep in a different place every night, spend 8 hours a day on the road, fix bottles over hotel sinks, find a way to start laying our foundation as a family in the middle of this horrendous cross country move. It nearly did us all in. So I say to myself, well, no matter how intense it gets this time, at least we won't be in the Neon, moving across country. Some days that is all the comfort and reassurance I need.